


Home Again

by Lobo_Loca



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Brief Mention of Roy's Mother, Brief mentions of PTSD, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Gen, Present Tense, Roy POV, Secret Anna 2018, Terrible With Tags As Usual, post fe6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobo_Loca/pseuds/Lobo_Loca
Summary: Roy and Eliwood's first Christmas after the war.[Roy holds out the present for Father. “Merry Christmas!”“Merry Christmas!” Father says at the same time, holding out his present for Roy.They blink at each other then curl over laughing.“You go first,” Father says once he’s regained a little composure. ]





	Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for erigure as part of Secret Anna 2018. 
> 
> Merry Christmas y'all, and a Happy New Year!

Early Christmas morning, Roy wanders through the quiet halls of Pherae Castle, anxiously thumbing the plain string tied around Father’s present. Maybe he should’ve wrapped it nicer. He could’ve if he’d stayed up later last night, but wanted to sleep so he’d be presentable in the morning.

Except sleep didn’t come easy. When it did come, eventually, it didn’t come quietly.

Roy’s just hoping he doesn’t look like he just walked off a battlefield at this point.

He silently makes his way to Father’s rooms. The door to the outer rooms is unlocked as usual, and Roy remembers the few times as a child when nightmares had sent him running here in the middle of the night, seeking his parents’ warmth and reassurance. 

Those were simpler times.

Father’s sitting room is as Roy remembers with a pair of armchairs and a long couch passed down through the generations, a fireplace with a iron grate, and a window facing east. A small tree is the only concession to the season, hung with small spun glass ornaments and a plain gold star.

Despite the early hour, one of the chairs in front of the fireplace is already occupied.

Father startles as the door opens. 

“Roy? What are you doing up so early?” he asks, starting to rise. “It’s Christmas — you should sleep in until the sun’s actually up for a change.”

Roy hurriedly closes the door and crosses to the couch beside Father’s chair before Father can fully stand. “Just a little insomnia, nothing to worry about.”

Father scrutinizes Roy closely, sinking back into the chair as he says, “War dreams aren’t something you have to be ashamed of.”

Roy freezes. He knows, logically, that there were wars before he was born, but sometimes he forgets what that means where Father is concerned.

“I just don’t see a reason to worry people over some dreams.”

Father hums. “I said the same thing once. Your mother clipped me over the head and said that so long as it brings pain, it’s a wound, and it needs attention or it’ll fester. She was right.” 

“She usually was.”

The conversational thread slips away, as it often does when Mother comes up. Silence creeps in along with old grief. 

Roy doesn’t want to let this set the tone for the day, so he steels himself and holds out the present for Father. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Father says at the same time, holding out a medium sized box wrapped in crimson paper with royal blue ribbon.

They blink at each other then curl over laughing breathlessly. 

“You go first,” Father says once he’s regained a little composure. His lips still twitch as he looks at Roy.

Roy sets the gift in his hands aside and takes the brightly wrapped package from Father. The ribbons unravels with a few gently tugs. Roy slowly peels away the paper so as not to tear it, folds the paper, and sets it aside, before opening the box.

Inside is another box, unwrapped.

Roy laughs quietly, shooting Father a look.

“Just because I’m not young anymore doesn’t mean I can’t make my own fun on Christmas,” Father says primly. “And it’s only two extra boxes.”

Roy shakes his head and opens the second box. Cushioned by tissue paper is the final box, wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with white snowflake-studded ribbon. He carefully lifts out the box. The ribbon is loose enough to slide off, and the paper comes away easily under his finders. Roy opens the lid. 

A large golden brooch embellished with the Pheraen coat of arms rests inside. 

“This…” Roy stares at the brooch, speechless.

Father clears his throat. “It’s early, I know. I had planned to wait until your 20th birthday, per custom, but I think, after all you’ve done for Pherae and for Lycia, you’ve earned it.” He meets Roy’s eyes and smiles. “I’m proud of you, Roy.”

_ Don’t cry _ , Roy tells himself, blinking rapidly. If he starts, he doesn’t think he’ll stop anytime soon, and he hasn’t even given Father his gift yet.

He quickly grabs Father’s gift and hands it over.

“It’s not much,” Roy admits sheepishly, looking at the plainly wrapped box in Father’s lap.

“It’s from you: that’s enough for me.”

Father unravels the twine and pushes away the paper, only to pause at the wooden box he unearths. He traces the abstract carvings on the lid, likely recognizing them from the years the box languished in Roy’s room, stuffed full of childhood treasures.

Hesitantly lifting the lid, Father stares at the six paper horses standing inside. Three are old and faded, two of which are large and the last half the size of the first. One of the large horses and the small horse are red, whereas the second of the large horses is silver. The new horses are all the same size; again two are red and one is silver.

Roy glances at Father’s face. “Do you like it? I know it’s not much, and if you don’t like it I can get you something else.”

Father sets aside the box of origami figures and drags Roy into a hug. “I’d love anything you gave me, but these especially, because I know how much you treasure them. But is it really alright for you to give me the horses your mother folded especially for you?”

“I still have other things she made for me.”

“Are you sure? What I wanted most this year was for you to come home — everything else is just icing on the cake.”

Roy buries his face in Father’s shoulder, feeling like a child for the first time in years. “I’m sure.”


End file.
